I'm The Devil - Chapter 234

Chapter 234: Elandor’s Traic Life

Elandor hesitated, the weight of Lucifer’s question pressing down on him. He had to choose his words carefully, to be honest yet cautious. “I… I want to gain magic. To be powerful like the other mages. To attend a prestigious academy and prove myself. I want to make a name for myself, to be recognized and respected.”

Lucifer nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Power, recognition, respect. These are worthy goals, but they come with great responsibility and often a heavy price. Are you prepared for the sacrifices that may be required to achieve such power?”

Elandor swallowed hard, feeling the gravity of Lucifer’s words. “I… I think so. I just want to be more than what I am now. I want to have control over my own destiny.”

Lucifer’s eyes glinted with a mixture of curiosity and something Elandor couldn’t quite place. “Tell me, Elandor,” Lucifer said, his voice a soothing rumble, “What led you to this moment? What is your story?”

Elandor took a deep breath, his mind drifting back to the beginnings of his life, a life marked by hardship and struggle. “I’m an orphan,” he began, his voice quiet but steady. “I never knew my parents. I was found as a baby, abandoned at the edge of a forest.”

He paused, memories flooding back. “An old woman, Elara, took me in. She was a kind soul, though she had little herself. She raised me in a small cottage at the outskirts of the village. She wasn’t a mage, but she knew a lot about herbs and healing. She taught me everything she knew.”

Lucifer listened intently, his expression unreadable. Elandor continued, his voice gaining strength as he recounted his past. “When I was ten, it was time for me to awaken my mana pathways. It’s a rite of passage for every child in Arcanum. The village elders perform a ceremony to open up the mana points within us, allowing us to access the arcane energies of our world.”

Elandor’s face darkened as he recalled that fateful day. “But for me, something went wrong. The elders said my mana pathways were damaged, blocked beyond repair. They tried everything, but nothing worked. I was declared a mundane, unable to ever use magic.”

The pain of that memory was evident in Elandor’s voice. “From that day on, I was an outcast. My peers, who had once been my friends, mocked and scorned me. I became the village wastrel, the boy who would never amount to anything. My dreams of becoming a mage, of attending the prestigious academy, were shattered.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the depth of Elandor’s anguish. “And the old woman, Elara? What happened to her?”

“She stood by me,” Elandor replied, a hint of gratitude in his voice. “She never gave up on me, even when everyone else did. She would tell me stories, encourage me to find another path. But it was hard. Every day, I felt the weight of my failure. I tried to be useful, helping Elara with her herbs and remedies, but it wasn’t the same. I wanted more. I wanted magic.”

Elandor’s gaze dropped, his voice barely a whisper. “I thought about ending it all, many times. But then I’d remember Elara, her kindness, her unwavering support. I couldn’t do that to her. She was the only family I had.”

Lucifer’s expression softened, though his eyes remained piercing. “And how did you come across this book, ‘How to Gain Magic’?”

Elandor looked up, his eyes shining with a mix of hope and desperation. “It was a few months ago. Elara had passed away, and I was alone. I was going through her things, trying to find something, anything that could help me. That’s when I found the book, hidden among her belongings.”

He took a deep breath, his voice trembling with emotion. “At first, I thought it was just another one of her old herbal manuals. But when I opened it, I realized it was something much more. It spoke of rituals, of summoning beings of immense power, beings who could grant the ability to use magic. I didn’t fully understand it, but I was desperate. I had nothing left to lose.”

Lucifer nodded, his expression contemplative. “And so, you performed the ritual, hoping it would give you what you desired.”

“Yes,” Elandor whispered, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I didn’t know what I was getting into. I just wanted a chance, a chance to be more than what I was.”

Lucifer looked at Elandor, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. As he studied the young man before him, he was reminded of his younger brother, Michael, back when they had both walked the earth in human form. Michael had always been the more innocent, the dreamer, often lost in his own world of stories and fantasies.

In the long eons since those days, Lucifer had read countless novels from various realms to pass the time, and Elandor’s tale seemed to echo the lives of the protagonists in those stories. They often started in misery, faced insurmountable odds, and lived through trials that would break lesser souls. And then, they would encounter a turning point, a fateful meeting that changed everything. Today, it seemed, Lucifer himself was that turning point for Elandor.

“Yes,” Elandor whispered, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I didn’t know what I was getting into. I just wanted a chance, a chance to be more than what I was.”

Lucifer’s smirk broadened into a genuine smile, filled with a mix of amusement and nostalgia. “You remind me of someone I once knew,” he said, his voice carrying a distant note. “A dreamer, like yourself. Someone who believed in the possibility of change, despite the odds stacked against them.”

Elandor looked up, confusion mingling with curiosity in his eyes. “Who?”

Lucifer chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to reverberate through the very air. “That’s a story for another time, perhaps. For now, let us focus on you.”

With that, Lucifer’s demeanor shifted. His gaze turned serious, and the air around them seemed to crackle with energy. “Elandor,” he said, his voice now a commanding presence, “I have decided to grant you magic. Not just any magic, but celestial magic—a power so rare and potent that it will change your very essence.”

Elandor’s eyes widened, a mix of awe and trepidation washing over him. “Celestial magic?”

“Yes,” Lucifer replied, his tone solemn. “It is the magic of the heavens, drawn from the very fabric of the cosmos. It will make you a conduit of the stars, a wielder of unimaginable power. But be warned, Elandor. This magic comes with great responsibility. It will not only elevate you but also demand your utmost dedication and integrity.”

Elandor nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. “I understand. I’m ready.”

Lucifer stepped closer, raising his hands. The air grew thick with energy, and a radiant glow began to emanate from his palms. “Brace yourself,” he said. “This will be unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.”

As Lucifer’s hands moved in a complex pattern, the glow intensified, enveloping Elandor in a cocoon of blinding white light. The energy surged through him, filling every fiber of his being with a searing, yet strangely soothing, warmth. It was as if the very essence of the stars was being poured into his soul.

Elandor gasped, his body tingling with an otherworldly sensation. The light grew brighter, enveloping him completely. He felt weightless, suspended in a sea of pure energy. The pain of his past, the struggles and heartache, seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of boundless potential.

The light intensified, reaching a crescendo before gradually fading. When it finally dissipated, Elandor found himself standing in the same spot, but everything felt different. He looked down at his hands, which now glowed faintly with a celestial aura. He could feel the magic coursing through him, a living, breathing force that pulsed in harmony with his heartbeat.

As Elandor prepared to stood there, he recalled the harsh lessons he had learned, the bitter disappointments, and the unwavering support of the woman who had been his only family.

He remembered the first time he had encountered the concept of magic. It was in one of Elara’s stories, a tale of ancient mages who could command the elements and bend reality to their will. He had listened, wide-eyed and enthralled, as she described the feats of these powerful beings. From that moment, he had dreamed of becoming a mage, of wielding such incredible power.

But that dream had turned into a nightmare on the day of his mana awakening. The ceremony was supposed to be a joyous occasion, a rite of passage that marked the beginning of a child’s journey into adulthood and magic. But for Elandor, it had been a day of crushing disappointment and heartache.

He remembered standing before the village elders, their faces grave as they examined his mana pathways. He remembered the murmurs of concern, the whispered conversations that he couldn’t quite hear. And then, the pronouncement: his mana pathways were irreparably damaged. He would never be able to use magic.

The days that followed were a blur of pain and confusion. His friends, who had once been his closest companions, turned their backs on him. They mocked him, calling him a wastrel, a failure. He became an outcast, shunned and ridiculed by those he had once considered his peers.

Elara had been his only solace during those dark times. She had held him as he cried, reassuring him that he was still valuable, still loved. She had encouraged him to find another path, to use his intelligence and resourcefulness to make a difference in the world. But it was hard to see past the hurt and humiliation.

As the years passed, Elandor tried to move on. He threw himself into helping Elara with her herbal remedies, learning everything he could about the healing arts. But the longing for magic never left him. It was a constant ache, a reminder of what he had lost.

When Elara fell ill, Elandor did everything in his power to save her. He tried every remedy, every potion, but nothing worked. She passed away peacefully, leaving him utterly alone. In his grief, he had turned to her belongings, searching for something, anything, that could help him make sense of his life.

That’s when he found the book. It was an old, leather-bound tome, its cover worn and faded. At first, he had dismissed it as just another one of Elara’s herbal manuals. But as he flipped through its pages, he realized it was something far more significant. The book spoke of ancient rituals and powerful beings, of summoning and magic. It was a beacon of hope in his darkest hour.

Driven by desperation and a renewed sense of purpose, Elandor had decided to perform the ritual described in the book. He gathered the necessary components, recited the incantations, and hoped against hope that it would work. And to his astonishment, it had. He had summoned Lucifer, the God of Arcanum.

Now, standing before the powerful being he had summoned, Elandor felt a strange mix of fear and determination. He had taken the first step on a path that could lead to his dreams or his destruction. But he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.